


Can You Feel The Love (Deep Down Inside)

by AnonymousDandelion



Series: Hallie and the Ineffables: Being the Adventures of an Angel, a Demon, and a Dog [3]
Category: Good Omens (Radio), Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Can Sense Love (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dogs, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Feels, Fluff, Footnotes, Happy Ending, Hell is Terrible (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Ineffable Partners, Light Angst, Literal Sleeping Together, Love, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Post-Canon, Queerplatonic Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Repressed Crowley (Good Omens), Supportive Aziraphale (Good Omens), aziraphale and crowley have a dog, but the angst was in the past so now we get softness, i thought this would be angstier but it mostly turned into fluff, love is love is love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:34:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29828478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousDandelion/pseuds/AnonymousDandelion
Summary: Aziraphale focused, trying to trace the unexpected strand of love to its source.And froze.“Crowley!” Aziraphale blurted out, aloud.The demon sprang awake and out of his dream with a startled gasp. And just like that, as Aziraphale hurried to soothe and apologize for having disturbed Crowley’s repose, the tendril was gone.~ ~ ~Aziraphale and Crowley have long since accepted that, for unknown reasons, Aziraphale's metaphysical love-sense can't pick up Crowley's feelings. Fortunately, it doesn't matter. Because theydolove each other, they both know it, and they're content together.So why has Aziraphale recently begun sensing something that feels very much like a filament of love coming from Crowley — reaching out of the blue, only to disappear the moment attention is called to it?It's a mystery to them both. But whatever is going on, whatever realizations may lie in store, they have each other, they have their dog, and they have their love. They'll be all right.(Prewritten; updates semiweekly; may be read alone or as part of the series. Fluff, feels, very light mystery, very light angst, much supportiveness, lots of love.)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Hallie and the Ineffables: Being the Adventures of an Angel, a Demon, and a Dog [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061846
Comments: 14
Kudos: 36
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Started this story a few months ago, wrote about half of it, fell into an I-hate-my-writing funk, and abandoned it. Finally pulled the WIP out again recently while in a better frame of mind, decided it wasn't horrible after all (NB: brain is not always reliable while in I-hate-my-writing funks), and finished the story out! I'm excited to be sharing it now.
> 
> This story is a direct and conceptual sequel to my oneshot [Believe Me, I Love You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28574745), so I might recommend reading that first; however, every work in this series can also stand on its own. Similarly, if you want to know how and why Aziraphale and Crowley came to have a dog, feel free to check out my second-ever posted fic (and the first in this series): [Man's (and Demon's and Angel's) Best Friend](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25153165). All the background you need for this story, however, is that they adopted a dog they called Hallie. And, needless to say, they all love each other very much.
> 
> Ironically enough, this idea was originally intended as a 500-word ficlet in my [Dialogue Prompt Fills series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1996120). Obviously, it ended up just a _tiny_ bit longer than intended — by which I mean that we'll be passing 10k by the time we're done here, and I'm fairly sure this is my longest fic yet. XD (I did write a different prompt fill of a more appropriate length for the ficlet series, never fear; see [Wanted To Tell You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28294737).)
> 
> Barring the unexpected, I plan to update twice a week until complete.
> 
> But enough of the preamble. See you on the other side, and I hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time that Aziraphale sensed his love, Crowley was sleeping.

The first time that Aziraphale sensed his love, Crowley was sleeping.

They were, as was frequently the case, at the bookshop. Aziraphale was sitting in his desk chair, reading and absently giving Hallie a belly rub.

Judging from Crowley’s occasional mutters and semi-restless motions on the sofa, the demon was having a dream.

Not a nightmare, Aziraphale thought, at least not yet — Crowley’s dreams were, unfortunately, still all too prone to taking unpleasant turns into flames and fear — but nevertheless, just to be on the safe side, Aziraphale took a moment to bestow his standard blessing.

_Dream of whatever you like best._

He was rewarded by the unfailingly heartwarming sight of Crowley relaxing, his lips curving faintly upwards at the corners.

Having thus ensured the security of his partner’s nap, Aziraphale returned to his reading.

And it was scarcely five minutes later that he felt it: a gossamer brush against the very periphery of his perceptions. The unmistakable, melodically glimmering aroma[1] of…

_Love._

Not Hallie’s constant canine love, though that was certainly as present as ever. Not Aziraphale’s own love, angelic and beyond, which saturated the bookshop and its occupants. No, this love was barely a thread — tentative, tenuous, hardly even tangible — and yet still, somehow, to Aziraphale’s well-cultivated senses, surprisingly strong.

Well, that was puzzling. Aziraphale focused, trying to trace the unexpected strand of love to its source.

And froze.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale blurted out, aloud.

The demon sprang awake and out of his dream with a startled gasp. And just like that, as Aziraphale hurried to soothe and apologize for having disturbed Crowley’s repose[2], the tendril was gone… gone, as if it had never been there in the first place.

Perhaps it never had been there. Perhaps Aziraphale had only imagined it.

In fact, come to think of it, that _must_ have been the case. Aziraphale had enough experience to know that love didn’t work that way.

Oh, yes, of course love could and did emerge, just as it could and did sometimes fade. Ebb and flow in the intensity or prominence of a given love was entirely natural. Love came… and in some cases, although Aziraphale was loath to even think about it in any proximity to Crowley, love went.

But not like this. Genuine love (and the genuinity of what Aziraphale had felt, or thought he had felt, could not be in doubt) didn’t simply appear out of the blue, and then vanish in the next heartbeat with no precipitating event at all. It just _didn’t._

So, yes, the tendril of love had surely been Aziraphale’s imagination. Perhaps he had dozed off without realizing, and it had been some strange sort of dream that, inexperienced at dreaming as Aziraphale was, he merely hadn’t identified as such.

He didn’t bother mentioning the odd moment to Crowley. By the time the demon had fallen back asleep, Aziraphale had all but forgotten what had prompted his waking.

And in the end, it really didn’t matter. They had long since, and to mutual satisfaction, resolved the question of the demon’s ability to love.[3] There was no need to run the risk of stirring up old insecurities for no reason.

~ ~ ~

It happened twice more before Aziraphale decided that perhaps it was, after all, worth bringing up the tender filament of love that seemed to reach out of Crowley’s dreams when the demon was at his most peaceful.

~ ~ ~

“You _sensed_ my love? Are you sure?”

“Fairly.” This conversation was, Aziraphale assured himself, nothing whatsoever to be anxious about. He stroked Hallie’s ears, primarily for the sake of having something to do with his hands.[4] “I wasn’t, at first. But I’ve noticed it three times now. I don’t see how I could have been so repeatedly mistaken.”

“You’re sure it was _my_ love?” Crowley pressed. “Not… overflow from a random besotted couple on the street, or… whatever?”

“This is rather my area of expertise,” Aziraphale pointed out, a trifle stiffly. “ _Two_ of my areas of expertise, in point of fact. I know love, and I know you. I hardly think I could fail to tell the difference between miscellaneous passerby emissions and something that touches me so personally.”

Crowley still looked unsettled. “But it _can’t_ have been mine.”

“Why not?” Aziraphale inquired.[5] “It’s true I’ve never felt it before, but we never did work out why that is. So perhaps we simply don’t know what would have changed it.[6]”

“But.” Crowley swallowed. “You said it was… thin.”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

“My love for you,” Crowley said in a tone that brooked no argument, “is a… a flaming _mountain._ There’s nothing thin about it.”

“Oh,” said Aziraphale — and since there was no reason to resist the impulse to take Crowley’s hand, he took it.[7] The declaration might not have come as a surprise, but it was still a minute or so before he could manage to speak again.

“You do know that, right?” Crowley’s muscles were tight in Aziraphale’s grip. “I don’t know why you sensed… whatever you sensed. But I…”

“Of course.” Aziraphale rubbed his thumb along the inside of Crowley’s wrist until the demon’s tension began to ease. “If I believed you when I had never sensed it at all, then why exactly would I stop believing you now that I _have_ sensed some of it? With all due respect, dear boy, that would be utterly illogical.”

“I guess.” Crowley still looked worried, though. “And, and you’re sure it wasn’t… wasn’t just…”

“Wasn’t what?”

Crowley mumbled something Aziraphale couldn’t make out.

“Wasn’t _what?”_ Aziraphale repeated.

Crowley fixed his eyes on Hallie’s paws. “Wishful thinking?”

“ _What?_ ” Aziraphale stared at him. “Whatever are you talking about?”

“Wishful thinking.” Crowley was still determinedly not looking at Aziraphale. “Because you can’t feel my love, and… and I know I’ve told you, but it’s not the same.”

Oh, dear. “Crowley.” Aziraphale tried and failed to catch his partner’s eyes with his own. “We’ve talked about this before. You aren’t dissatisfied because you can’t sense _my_ love for _you,_ are you?[8]”

“Obviously not.[9] But that’s different. I can’t ever sense it. You—”

“I,” Aziraphale interrupted, “ _can_ sense it—”

“That’s what I was going to say.”

“—which means that, of the two of us, I am plainly more qualified to be making the judgment here, so kindly refrain from arguing with me.”

Crowley made as if to argue, then evidently thought better of it. “I’m not kind,” he said instead, with just a trace of sulkiness.

Aziraphale ignored him. “And besides, my dear, you know you do far more than just _telling_ me you love me. You _show_ me. And yes, you’re right, it is not the same as sensing it. I rather think it’s better.”

There was, Aziraphale had reflected more than once since that memorable day a few years ago when he had first allowed himself to believe in Crowley’s love, something about that distinctly Earthly approach to loving — actively _expressing_ the emotion, in look and word and deed — that was, in its way, even sweeter than the metaphysical feeling of raw love itself.

“I am,” Aziraphale told Crowley now, trying to channel as much reassurance as he could into the words, true as they were, “more than content.”

One of Crowley’s eyebrows gave an ambivalent twitch. “You said the same thing when I thought I didn’t love you.”

Aziraphale huffed. “I daresay I did. It was true back then too, you know. I was content with your company. But it’s… it’s even _truer_ now that I know you do. Love me, that is.” He paused, and raised an eyebrow of his own. “Really now, Crowley. What gives you the impression that I would be wasting my energy on ‘wishful thinking’, when I have everything I could ever have wished for right here, right now? I assure you, I have no shortage of much more worthwhile things to do with my time.”

To Aziraphale’s relief, that last got a snort of amusement out of Crowley. “Reading, you mean. Do you even do anything else with your time?”

Aziraphale didn’t deign to point out that Crowley knew perfectly well that he did plenty of other things with his time,[10] especially given that he did a significant number of them with Crowley. “Reading,” he said instead, “is a highly worthwhile endeavor. You should try it sometime.”

Crowley snorted again.[11]

Aziraphale beamed.

“I only mentioned the love,” he said after a minute, “because it was unexpected, and it seemed like it was the kind of thing you might like to know about. That’s all.”

“Okay, okay. I get it.” Crowley exhaled. “Tell me if it happens again?”

“Of course.” Aziraphale touched his cheek.[12] “I’ll tell you. But it doesn’t matter if it does or it doesn’t.”

~ ~ ~

It didn’t, for several weeks longer.

Until it did.

Aziraphale was standing guard while Crowley, in his snake form, basked in the park… and there it was, all at once, a pale glow complementing the midday sunlight.

Three and a half weeks later, at Crowley’s flat. Aziraphale was reading aloud, Crowley drifting off to the sound of his voice[13]... and there it was, a low hum, vibrating in rhythm with the words.

Nineteen days after that, back at the bookshop. Aziraphale was making tea, Crowley once again napping on the sofa… and there it was, a fragrant breath in the air, mingling with the scent of jasmine.

It kept coming back, that strand of Crowley’s love. Ephemeral, intermittent, inexplicable… but indubitably, irrefutably, real.

**Footnotes**

1 The English language — and, when you came down to it, every other language known to humanity — is woefully inadequate when it comes to describing the metaphysical sense of love. As a result, Aziraphale was forced to make do with words borrowed from other senses. This occasionally led to rather peculiar mixed metaphors and combinations of descriptors.[return to text]

2 By way of making amends for said disturbance, Crowley demanded that Aziraphale stroke his hair while he fell back asleep. The demon drove a hard bargain, but under the circumstances, what could Aziraphale do but acquiesce? Hallie, for her part, strenuously objected to being so abandoned by her angel. Thus Aziraphale wound up petting a dog with one hand and a demon with the other. His book helpfully hovered open in front of him, turning its own pages as needed.[return to text]

3 The mutually satisfactory resolution in question being that Crowley said and showed that he loved Aziraphale, and Aziraphale trusted him (and, incidentally, loved him back), and whatever the reason that Crowley’s love was not perceptible to celestial senses, ultimately it didn’t matter.[return to text]

4 Hallie was more than willing to oblige by having her ears stroked.[return to text]

5 And did not say _you do love me, don’t you?_... because, after all, he already knew the answer to that question.[return to text]

6 Given that Aziraphale’s initial reaction had been very similar to Crowley’s, he’d had time to come up with this answer in argument with himself.[return to text]

7 This, unfortunately, meant that Aziraphale now had only one hand free for stroking Hallie’s ears. Hallie magnanimously forgave him for this dreadful lapse in attention.[return to text]

8 He hoped not, anyway… but what if…  
_No,_ Aziraphale scolded himself, catching that train of thought and stopping it in its tracks before it could spiral, _stop that this instant. You know he isn’t. He would have told you._[return to text]

9 _So there,_ Aziraphale informed the aborted spiral, and returned his attention to the conversation at hand.  


10 Which was, of course, not to say that Aziraphale did not _also_ spend a substantial portion of his time reading.[return to text]

11 Why would Crowley bother, when he could instead have Aziraphale read to him — an option that came with all the pros of reading to himself, none of the cons, and a few extra pros thrown into the mix?[return to text]

12 Which, since one hand was already occupied with Crowley’s, left Hallie’s ears momentarily unattended. All was well, however, because Crowley’s free hand quickly came to fill the void left by Aziraphale’s.[return to text]

13 Crowley was not listening to a bedtime story. Obviously. Demons don’t listen to bedtime stories. It just so happened that Aziraphale was reading a story out loud, while Crowley was going to bed. Total coincidence, thank you very much.[return to text]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you're up for leaving a comment, I would absolutely love to hear what you think thus far. <3 Chapter two should be out this weekend!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you couldn’t sense it before,” said Crowley, “what's different?”  
> “I was rather hoping you would tell me that,” Aziraphale retorted. “It’s your love, after all.”

It only ever seemed to show itself, that questing line of love, when Crowley was asleep. Often when Aziraphale blessed his dreams. Always ending abruptly, when Crowley moved in his sleep, or a sound disturbed the silence, or sometimes when, so far as Aziraphale could tell, nothing had happened at all.

Neither of them knew exactly what to make of it.

“If you couldn’t sense it before,” said Crowley, “what's different?”

“I was rather hoping you would tell me that,” Aziraphale retorted. “It’s your love, after all.”

Crowley made a face. “How should I know? I’m sleeping every time it happens. I’m taking your word for it that it happens at all. For all I know this could be your idea of a roundabout joke to get revenge for last time I wiled you.” He paused. “If it’s a joke, by the way, it’s a bloody terrible one. But you are doing a dang good job at pulling my leg, I’ll grant you that.”

Aziraphale winced. “I wouldn’t joke about something like this, Crowley…”

“I know.” Crowley softened. “I know you wouldn’t, angel. I was kidding.”

“Oh. Good.”

“Not about the first part, though. If it never happens when I’m awake, I don’t know how I’m supposed to be able to figure anything out.”

Aziraphale thought about that. “Fair point, I suppose. But I don’t think _I’m_ doing anything. This is rather mysterious.”

“I’ll keep thinking about it,” Crowley offered. “Let you know if I come up with anything.”

“So will I,” Aziraphale agreed.

~ ~ ~

“It has to have something to do with your sleep,” Aziraphale decided the next time it happened. “What were you dreaming about this time?”

“Dunno.” Crowley shrugged. “Maybe Hallie? Bentley? Rome? Definitely you. I think. Probably.[14]”

“Me?” Aziraphale blinked.

_Whatever you like best…_

Not that Crowley hadn’t as much as said so many a time before, but still.

“Well,” Aziraphale went on, as if he wasn’t half a breath away from needing to blink many more times to clear away the mist threatening to spring up in his eyes. “Well, then. I suppose that does make sense. If you were dreaming about me, and you love m—”

“Nope. That’s not it.”

Crowley sounded positive about that statement. Aziraphale gave him a puzzled look.[15] “What?”

“I mean, obviously I love you. But if it was just because I dreamt about you, you’d notice it a whole lot more often than every few weeks.”

Aziraphale was, he discovered, completely at a loss as to how to reply to that. “Well, then,” he said again, in lieu of making a direct response. “Do you remember anything else about the dream? Anything in particular that you were doing, or thinking, or feeling, or…?”

Crowley shook his head. “Nah. Just…”

He hesitated.

“Yes?” Aziraphale prompted.

Another shake of the head. “Don’t remember any of the details, sorry. Just the feeling.”

“Yes? The feeling?”

Crowley looked embarrassed. “Nothing much. Just… eh. Y’know. Safe.”

 _Safe._ Aziraphale felt his heart swell. “Well, it may not be of much use in solving the mystery at hand, but I…” _I know you’ve spent six thousand years feeling continually endangered on one level or another_ seemed like it might spoil the mood, so he skipped straight to, “I am glad you felt safe.”

Crowley smiled, and changed the subject. “Want to take Hallie for a walk?[16]”

~ ~ ~

It didn’t stop happening. If anything, each time Aziraphale noticed the thread of love stretching forth from Crowley’s slumber it seemed to be just a bit sturdier, just a bit more clearly defined.

Of course, it wasn’t as if such things were strictly measurable in any quantifiable way, so it was difficult to be sure. Far more readily ascertainable was the fact that, as months and more months went by, the moments began to occur more frequently… and, when they did come, to last for ever-increasing amounts of time.

When Aziraphale communicated this observation to Crowley, the demon tilted his head, shrugged, said, “I’ll keep thinking about it,” and then asked if Aziraphale was in the mood for Indian or Thai food.[17]  


~ ~ ~

They were in the Bentley, heading home from a play. Crowley was, Aziraphale thought with pleasure, as relaxed that Aziraphale had ever seen him. He brought the Bentley sharply around a corner, smiling absently to himself and, probably without realizing it, humming along to _Funny How Love Is…_

And there it was, nothing funny about it at all, a gentle caress on Aziraphale’s heart.

“Darling?” he murmured, hoping to keep his voice low enough not to disrupt the moment.

To no avail. Crowley jumped, and stopped humming… and, as usual, the sense of love retreated into nothingness.

Ah, well. Aziraphale sighed, kept his promise, and told Crowley.

“Huh,” said Crowley.

“You weren’t asleep this time,” Aziraphale observed. “Did you notice anything?”

Crowley turned the music up,[18] cut off a deeply offended Rolls-Royce,[19] and didn’t answer.[20]  


~ ~ ~

That day in the Bentley was the first time it happened while Crowley was awake, but it was not the last.

The projection of his love was, Aziraphale deduced, clearly linked in some way to Crowley’s relaxation levels. More the pity, as it only ever seemed to happen when the demon was so at peace that Aziraphale hated to interrupt his serenity.

And still, every time without fail, the ever-stronger tendril of love continued to evaporate as soon as Aziraphale called attention to it — vanishing as if frightened off by the mere mention of its existence.

Crowley volunteered no new theory as to the rhyme or reason behind the appearances and disappearances of his love. Aziraphale, for his part, didn’t push the question.

**Footnotes**

  


14 It had, he reasoned, been a good-feeling dream. So, it had pretty certainly involved Aziraphale.[return to text]

15 Puzzled, nothing more, Aziraphale reminded himself. Crowley having been consistently loving Aziraphale anywhere from two to six thousand years (depending on whether you started the count from when Crowley first loved Aziraphale, or from when Crowley first realized that he loved Aziraphale), it seemed highly unlikely that whatever the demon was denying could have been the “you love me” part.[return to text]

16 The correct answer to this question was, in Hallie’s expert opinion, always yes.[return to text]

17 Aziraphale was in the mood for both. Duh.[return to text]

18 Much to the Bentley’s gratification.[return to text]

19 Also much to the Bentley’s gratification.[return to text]

20 Much to the Bentley’s disappointment. The Bentley was at least as invested in this mystery as anyone else.[return to text]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you in a few days with the next chapter! Any theories yet as to the explanation for this no-stakes mystery? :-)


End file.
